Mondays with You
by bethandbee
Summary: Kurt had always been there to help Quinn out when she'd been Slushied, and Quinn had always been there to help Kurt out of the trash. When their unlikely friendship is threatened, they may not be able to pick up the pieces. Kurt/Quinn.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Mondays With You  
**Author:** **Beth** of bethandbee  
**Rating:** T, for mature subject matter  
**Summary:** Kurt had always been there to help Quinn out when she'd been Slushied within an inch of her life, and Quinn had always been there to help Kurt out of the dumpster. Their unlikely friendship goes under fire in a shocking turn of events, and they're not sure if they can risk rebuilding their bond of sisterhood - well, sibling-hood, anyway. Multi-chap of around 10 chapters.  
**Disclaimer:** 'Glee' belongs to Ryan Murphy and FOX. No infringement intended

Chapter 1:

_And mother feels so shocked  
Father's world is rocked  
And their thoughts turn to their own little girl  
Sweet 16 ain't that peachy keen_

_Tell me why  
I don't like Mondays  
Tell me why  
I don't like Mondays_

- "I Don't Like Mondays" – The Boomtown Rats

Monday was easily the worst day of the week. First thing in the morning, Quinn Fabray alternately sat through boring physics lectures and ran to the bathroom to vomit. After physics came Spanish, and after Spanish came chemistry. And as bad as chemistry was, it was nothing compared to what followed: lunch. Monday was Bottomless Slushie Day; you could annihilate three, four, or even five unfortunate individuals for the price of one. Quinn usually skipped her last-period calculus class to clean herself off in the bathroom – those Slushie stains were just dreadful - and then to have a good cry in one of the empty stalls.

Well, today was a Monday, and a particularly magnificent one at that. The cafeteria staff had decided to couple Bottomless Slushie Day with a spaghetti special; Quinn had already emptied two Tide-to-Go's in her quest to rid her blouse of all the tomato-sauce blotches and the rainbow of Slushie blots. You would think that after the fourth or fifth Slushie attack she would have learned not to wear white shirts, but she couldn't help it; she was a glutton for punishment.

She yanked out another Tide-to-Go stick and dabbed away at one particularly persistent stain. Looking up, she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror; eyes, puffy from crying. Cheeks, bright red, and shimmering from recent tears. Lips, sprouting a new cold sore. Ugh. Because this day couldn't get any worse.

"Oh, honey," a voice called from behind her. "That is not coming out."

Quinn turned to see Kurt Hummel stroll into the bathroom, undoing his belt as he did so.

"Kurt! Ew!"

"You'd do it too if you were me," he shrugged. "Those urinals are disgusting."

Quinn raised an eyebrow at him. "Have I ever told you that you have some _very_ serious issues that you need to address?"

"No," he said. "In fact, I believe this is the first time we've ever spoken."

"And the last, if I'm lucky." She turned back to the mirror. "Buzz off."

He disappeared into the last stall on the left.

"You're destroying your shirt with all that Tide," he called out. "And that is a really, really nice shirt."

She set her Tide-to-Go pen down on the counter and sucked in a deep breath, exasperated. She had gotten to the point where anything could send her reeling into a crying spell, and Kurt was getting on her very last nerve.

"Well, what am I supposed to do, huh? I'm just a great big walking target for people to throw lunch at."

"Do what I do," he replied from behind the door. "Raincoats."

Quinn's thumb slid into her mouth, and she sucked it, contemplatively, while trying not to cry. Kurt flipped open the stall door and walked forward to the counter. As he squirted some soap into his hands, he looked up at Quinn, at her furrowed brow, the tears lingering in her already red eyes. His face softened, and one corner of his mouth turned up.

"It wasn't always this hard, was it?"

She yanked her thumb out of her mouth. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're sucking your thumb, sweetheart."

"It's just... I don't know. It's a coping mechanism."

He smirked at her.

"It takes an awful lot to reduce the head cheerleader to a thumb-sucker skipping class to cry in the bathroom. What are you skipping, anyway?"

"Calc."

"Calculus?" Kurt was incredulous. "And to think, I took you for a dumb blonde."

Quinn nodded. "I've been on the honour roll since freshman year. I'm not stupid, Kurt."

She cast her eyes down, to avoid crying in front of this stranger, she thought. His words were cutting much too deep. Taking a deep breath, she perched herself on the wet, soapy counter. Her clothes were wrecked already, she figured. A little bit of water couldn't hurt. Finally, she managed to choke out a coherent sentence.

"And I really thought I had a chance at getting out of this cow town."

She closed her eyes to quell the storm that was coming. It was useless, really; she could feel water rising in the corners of her eyes.

"Why is everybody at this stupid school so _mean_?"

Kurt looked down at the ground, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"When we were in ninth grade," he said, "I came to school one day wearing pink skinny jeans."

She was silent.

"Do you remember that?"

Quinn shook her head. Truthfully, she didn't; maybe she didn't want to.

"What does that have to do with anything, Kurt?"

"You and your friends laughed at me that day. You called me 'fag.' You got Puck to throw me in the dumpster. The whole nine yards."

Their eyes locked. Quinn bit her lip. She could barely stand the loudness of the silence.

"Kurt, I'm really sorry," she began.

"You've been the mean girl," he shrugged. "And, hey, I've thrown out my share of insults, too. It's just the way we teenagers are. I figured that out a long time ago. And I also figured out that it's a lot easier to deal with if you just ignore them."

Quinn shot him an artificial smile.

"But it's not like we - I mean, the cheerleaders, Puck - they were never your friends. These girls were my best friends a week ago. And now..."

"They're not your friends any more, are they?"

Quinn cocked her head at him, growing angrier by the minute. "That's kind of the point. I miss my friends. I hate walking down the hallway all alone. I hate sitting by myself in all my classes because nobody will dare talk to me."

Kurt hoisted himself up on the counter beside Quinn. He looked into her eyes for a second, and then raised one arm to rest awkwardly around her shoulders.

"I know how it feels, Quinn."

She cast her eyes to the floor, giggling apprehensively. "What exactly do you know about being pregnant?"

"Not a whole lot. What I meant to say was that I know what it's like to be lonely. But being lonely isn't the same as being alone. And you are _not_ alone, Quinn."

His mouth turned up into a bashful grin.

"You have Finn. And you know he'd do anything for you. Same with everyone in Glee. We'll look out for you. I'd be more than happy to serve as your human shield on Bottomless Slushie Day."

She couldn't help herself any more. His awkward hug was the first semblance of loving touch she'd felt in ages. She figured she might as well return the favour. Quinn pulled Kurt closer to her, patting his back as she did. "Thank you, Kurt."

He pulled away after a few seconds, and flashed an embarrassed grin. "Chin up, cowgirl."

"Kurt?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I bullied you before. I didn't know how it feels. I wouldn't wish it on anyone – and definitely not you, of all people."

He patted her on the shoulder. "Apology accepted."

Kurt hopped off the counter and brushed off his pants.

"Well, I'm off to football practice. See you at Glee tomorrow."

She waved goodbye; he lingered in the doorframe.

"Take care of yourself, Quinn."

She shot him a little smile.

"I will."

**The next chapter will be up in a few days. Please feel free to leave a review! Reviews = love. Seriously. **


	2. Chapter 2

Ch 2:

Tuesdays; now, those were nice. Quinn had a full schedule of home economics, English, study hall, and glee. She approached the school this particular Tuesday morning with something of a renewed hope. Yesterday, Kurt had reminded her that she wasn't alone. It was something she heard too much, and something she saw demonstrated far too little.

As she rounded the corner to the main entrance, she noticed a group clustered near the dumpster. Quinn stopped in her tracks, and shook her head as she watched one especially tall, mohawked figure shove a smaller boy into the cold, hard steel. She remembered all the times she'd stood by Puck as he tossed McKinley's unfortunates and outcasts into the trash.

She was ashamed of herself.

As she stormed across the parking lot to lay the smack down on Puck and his goons, she recognized their victim. It was none other than Kurt Hummel.

"Douchebags!" Quinn shook off her backpack, slamming it down so hard that it bounced off the concrete. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Well, hello, Miss Piggy. How nice of you to join us," Puck smirked.

"Don't even start with me." She cast a sidelong glance at Kurt, who was trembling, in what was either rage or fear, in Matt's muscular arms. His eyes were wide as saucers.

"What did he ever do to you, Puck?"

"We caught him checking out Finn in the locker room last night. Undressing him with his eyes. It was freakin' disgusting."

Quinn threw her hands up in the air and cast her eyes heavenward – an instinct, she realized. She was praying for patience.

"So he looked the wrong way in the showers. Big deal. You can't just chuck people into the dumpster. Honestly, how old are you? Twelve?"

"I seem to remember," Puck smirked, "Not too long ago, you were here every day helping us take out the trash."

Quinn swallowed. "Don't you dare," she replied hoarsely. "It's wrong."

He shrugged at her, and then turned back to Matt. Quinn watched, helplessly, as Matt shoved Kurt towards Puck. Puck caught him by his shoulders, and then heaved him up and over the rim of the dumpster. Kurt landed with a faint crash.

The football team laughed and high-fived each other. After a few seconds, and a few well-timed death glares from Quinn, they scattered, leaving her alone in front of the blue bin. When she was sure they'd all left, she called his name.

"Kurt?"

There was no reply.

"Kurt whatever-your-middle-name-is Hummel?"

He was silent.

"Are you planning on lying in the trash all day?"

"Yes," came his muffled response.

"I can't imagine it's very comfortable in there."

"On the contrary," he said. "It's very cozy."

Quinn approached the dumpster, peeking over the edge. She extended her arm. "Give me your hand. I'll help you out."

He groped in the air for her hand, and then found it, clasped it tight. She backed up, pulling hard. Slowly, Kurt emerged from the garbage. He released her hand and clambered over the edge by himself. She winced at the boy in front of her.

"Oh, Kurt. You're a mess."

He looked down, forlorn. "This was D&G," he mumbled, picking scraps of what looked like cotton candy off his red sweater.

"Yuck."

Quinn moved behind him, brushing off dirt, grass, and the other random crap that had collected on his back. She sniffed her hand and reeled at the scent. It was likely that some actual crap had found its way out of the garbage can and onto Kurt's sweater.

"You wouldn't happen to have anything else to wear today, would you?"

He shook his head. "Hope springs eternal."

"I think I have my old Cheerios windbreaker in my backpack if you wanted to borrow it."

"Oh, goodie. I've always wanted to be a cheerleader."

"It'll go with those black skinny jeans," she teased.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Fine."

She stalked back to her backpack and dug around for the jacket.

"You know, I don't need your help, Quinn."

She looked up at him, a little startled, jacket in her hand.

"You remember yesterday, during Calc?"

He nodded.

"I didn't need your help then, either."

They exchanged sly smiles. Kurt unbuttoned his sweater, casting it to the ground. She passed him the jacket and he slipped it on, zipping it up to his chin.

"That's convenient. Who would have ever thought that we wear the same size?"

She giggled. "You look ridiculous."

"Ridiculously awesome?"

"No," she smiled. "Just... ridiculous."

"Excellent," he said. "Well, I guess I'll see you at Glee last period?"

"Of course."

He waved to her and walked away. She couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her last name splashed across his back, billowing in the wind.

Ridiculous.

---

"_Do you remember when we used to dance_?"

Two stomps. One clap.

"_And incidence rose from circumstance_!"

Stomp. Stomp. Clap.

"_One thing led to another, we were young._

_And we would scream together songs unsung._"

Boom, boom, clap.

"_It was the heat of the moment_!

_Telling me what your heart meant_!"

Rachel burst to the front of the group, echoing Mercedes' battle cry.

"_The heat of the moment shone in your eyes_!"

It was actually very hot in the auditorium. The stage lights burned in the eyes of the glee club as they swayed back and forth, chanting the outro.

"_Heat of the moment_! _Heat of the moment_!

_The heat of the moment shone in your eyes_!"

The entire ensemble froze to belt out the final line.

"_Heat of the moment_!"

The final hiss of the snare drum told them their song was over. Mr. Schuester rose from his seat in the audience, clapping slowly.

"Good job, gang! I think we have our new number for Sectionals."

Rachel Berry smiled broadly. "Thanks to my artistic vision, of course."

"And the '80s rock album we listen to when we make out," Puck added.

Rachel's smile disappeared, and Mr. Schuester's eyebrows rose.

"All-righty, then," Mr. Schuester hummed, clearly uncomfortable. "I have a modest proposal for you all: who remembers last month when we paired up for ballads?"

Quinn thought back to last month. Last month, she had had a home. Last month, her parents had been proud to call her their daughter. Last month, life was a whole lot simpler.

And, if she remembered correctly, she'd paired up for a ballad with Artie at some point. It was all a blur.

"I'd really like to do something similar, only this time, each pair will compose and perform a mash-up."

"Are we randomly selecting partners again?" Finn asked. There was a bit of desperation in his voice. Quinn wondered why.

"No, I've already paired you up, just based on how I think your voices will sound together." Mr. Schuester pulled out a sheet of paper from his back pocket, unfolding it before he read out the names.

"Santana and Matt. Brittany and Quinn."

Brittany bounced up and down excitedly. Quinn grinned at the bubble-headed blonde. Oh, joy.

"Mike and Tina. Puck and Rachel."

Rachel's face lit up with a smile, and Quinn stifled a snide laugh.

"Mercedes and Artie."

The two high-fived.

"And Finn and Kurt."

Quinn thought she heard a high-pitched squeal from behind her. She turned just in time to lock eyes with Kurt. He blushed bright red before looking up and away. She raised one eyebrow at him. He began rocking back and forth, whistling frantically and avoiding her gaze.

Well, that was certainly different_._

"I'm going to make this due in a couple of weeks. Who knows, some of the better ones might even wind up on our set-list for Sectionals. Hop to it, kids."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **

**1. I'd like to take a moment to thank you, my lovely readers and reviewers, for supporting this story. Your comments are so encouraging. Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

**2. Also, I use a few song excerpts here, so I'm just going to go ahead and say that no copyright infringement is intended. **

**3.** **The first few lines of Puck and Rachel's dialogue mirrors a scene in a favourite film of mine. Brownie points to anyone who can identify the source!**

**Without further ado, Chapter 3:**

"_I could lie awake just to hear you breathing_

_Watch you smile while you are sleeping_

_Far away and dreaming_

_I could spend my life in this sweet surrender_

_I could stay lost in this moment forever_

_And every moment spent with you_

_Is a moment I treasure_!"

The recorded track played on. Finn snapped his fingers in front of Kurt's face.

"Kurt? You're supposed to sing the chorus."

Kurt blinked. "Oh, right. Sorry, I just got distracted. There was… I mean, I thought I saw… there was a bird."

"In the auditorium?"

Kurt shrugged. "Birds. They're crazy."

Finn sighed. "You know, maybe this isn't the right song anyway."

"No! No!" Kurt jumped off his stool. "The song is perfect! Don't change the song. I love this song! It's my favourite. Ever."

"Seriously, I really think we should. What other songs did you have on the CD?"

Kurt, sighing, flipped open the CD case of the disc that he had burned the night before. "We have 'Think of Me' from Phantom of the Opera. 'Toxic' by Britney Spears."

He paused. "'Never Say Never' by The Fray."

"Ugh," Finn groaned. "They're all just so _gay_."

"Well, Finn, what did you have in mind?"

"I kinda like Nickelback. What do you think?"

Kurt froze in place.

"Kurt?"

"Excuse me… Nickelback?"

"Yes."

"_Ew_."

"Oh, come on. Your first suggestion was a mash-up of the Pussycat Dolls and Sinead O'Connor."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"They're songs for girls, Kurt. And we're not girls. I mean, at least when I sing Nickelback I don't sound like a chipmunk on speed."

"What are you implying, Finn?"

"Nothing," Finn replied. "You have a great voice. I mean, you do sound like a girl, kind of - but in a good way!"

"Mm-hmm," Kurt hummed, choosing to ignore Finn's backhanded compliment. "Well, since this is a mash-up, why don't I combine some of your Nickelback with something that I can sing without sounding like a demon from the third level of hell?"

"Sure," Finn shrugged. "You're probably better at composing, anyway."

"Great. I'll get started on that tonight."

"Thanks, Kurt. See you tomorrow, bud."

Kurt gazed longingly from behind the piano at Finn's retreating back. He was so lucky, he realized, to have the privilege of singing with this beautiful man. He would have to find something perfectly suited to Finn's voice. He remembered that Nickelback's lead singer had a very deep, husky voice. Just like Finn, he thought, and smiled.

He lazily drifted over to the piano bench and began plinking away at the keys. Despite Kurt's best efforts at hijacking the intercom at Hummel Brake and Muffler, his dad was constantly playing Nickelback's greatest hits. And they were pretty catchy, he had to admit.

"_Look at this photograph, every time I see it makes me laugh_…"

He paused, struggling to remember a second line. Shrugging, he started again.

"_Someday, somehow, I'm gonna make it all right, but not all right now_."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh at himself. Singing so low made him sound like a goose, or – as he had put it to Finn – a demon from the third level of hell. He leaned forward and rested his head on the keyboard. With one hand, he played out a melody further down on the keyboard.

"_And this is how you remind me of what I really am…"_

He trailed off, sitting up straight to begin a new song, the one that had been stuck in his head for years. He didn't know how it had popped into his head in that moment, or why, but he couldn't help himself. He began to sing slowly, under his breath.

"_All the flowers that you planted, mama, in the backyard… they all died when you went away_."

He leaned forward once again, sinking into the keyboard and heaving sobs into his folded arms.

That had been her favourite song.

---

"Do you think Puck and Rachel are, like, going out?"

Brittany stared vacantly into Quinn's eyes, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger.

"They keep singing all these, like, love songs. And they keep cutting History to go make out in the bathroom."

Quinn nodded. "Yeah, those are generally signs that people are going out. I don't know why they got back together, though."

Oh, but she did know. Rachel Berry. Conniving little snot. This ridiculous, on-again, off-again delusion of a relationship she had with Puck was just her way of making Finn jealous. Didn't she realize that she already had Finn wrapped around her finger? Now she was just stringing Puck along. Not that Puck minded. He was probably just using her as someone else to make out with. Maybe, Quinn thought, Puck was trying to make her jealous by getting back with Rachel.

"I asked Puck about it yesterday in biology. He was really confusing. He was like, 'I really like Rachel, and it's kinda weird, because I usually only go for blonde cheerleaders whose names began with Q."

Quinn's eyes went wide. "He actually _said_ that?"

"I know. It was totally weird. At first, I thought he was flirting with me, but then I realized my name doesn't start with a Q."

"My name is _Quinn_."

Brittany wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't that start with a K, though?"

"No, it definitely starts with a Q."

"Oh." Brittany nodded slowly. Suddenly, her eyes lit up.

"I bet he was talking about you!"

Quinn nodded, laughing a little as she did so. "It's a definite possibility."

"I think you should sing him a song in our mash-up. Like, make it really obvious that you have a boyfriend and you don't need him around."

Brittany nodded knowingly as she dispensed this wisdom.

"That's a very good idea, Brittany. In fact, I'll get started on that tonight."

Quinn hastily threw her backpack over her shoulder.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Britt."

"But it's only 3," Brittany said, looking down at her wrist. "Weren't we going to rehearse 'till 4?"

"It's 4 right now. Are you sure you set your wrist to Daylight Savings Time?"

Brittany stared, open-mouthed, at her. "You can do that? How?"

---

"_I know your eyes in the morning sun_," she sang, running her fingers down his bony cheek. "_I feel you touch me in the pouring rain_."

She didn't have a chance to continue before Puck grabbed her waist and pulled her into a deep kiss. She closed her eyes for half a second, groaning slightly, and then she gently pushed him away.

"Puck, quit it! We actually have to practice."

"I can't help it," he shrugged. "This song is getting me so hot."

She stalked away, running her hand through her hair. Sighing, she turned back and stared him down, arms akimbo.

"Is sex the only thing that matters to you?"

He grinned. "I love you."

She sighed, sinking to the piano bench. "I want to believe that."

He slid around the piano, blowing out the one candle that brought light to the choir room – for mood. "So whaddya say we shut off the lights and get close?"

She looked down, avoiding his lusty gaze. "The song is called 'How Deep is Your Love,' Puck. And that's what I'm asking you."

He tipped her head up with his forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"Because, honestly, if you're just in this to make Quinn jealous, then we'd better end it right now."

He stepped back, throwing his arms up in the air.

"What do I have to do to make you believe me, huh? How many times do I have to tell you that I love you?"

She stood up, her eyes searing into him. "When you kiss me," she hissed, "you're thinking about her."

"Yeah, well, you're thinking about Finn."

"I'm thinking about you!" she yelled. "The first time around, I was, sure. But I wouldn't come running back to you just to try a failed plot again."

She stomped the ground in a pitiful expression of fury.

"I really, really like you, Puck. And I want to know that that means something to you."

Puck cupped her face in his hands.

"We're just going to do this forever, aren't we?" he murmured. "Make out, break up, make up?"

"Where are we now?" she asked.

He leaned forward and kissed her, slowly. Rachel didn't even try to fight him this time. She closed her eyes and threw her arms around his neck. His right hand left her face and made its way to the hem of her skirt.

"Puck, _boundaries_," she sighed, as he toyed with the material.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. A beam of light shone into the darkened choir room.

"Puck, are you in here?" Quinn called out.

"Yep," he called out. "Just making out with my girlfriend!"

Rachel shrieked, and Quinn flipped on the lights to reveal a smug-looking Puck, his right hand feeling around under the skirt of a shocked Rachel. She pulled away and tugged down her skirt. Her eyes looked everywhere but at Quinn.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Quinn intoned shakily. "In fact, never mind. I'll leave you two alone."

Quinn stepped back slowly, shutting the door. Rachel was shaking with rage. Her eyes bore into him as she stepped forward, raised her hand, and slapped him with all the might she could muster. He barely flinched.

"What _was_ that?" she hissed.

He winked at her. "I was just trying to be intimate with you. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

"I don't want you feeling me up!"

"You're jealous of Quinn!"

Rachel stood in the open door and buttoned up her coat. "Of course I am. Look, Puck, you can tell me you love me until you're blue in the face, but saying it won't make it true."

And with that, she left. She plugged her headphones into her ears, threw "Don't Rain on My Parade" on full volume, and stomped down the hallway and out the door.

If she hadn't been in such a hurry, she might have noticed Quinn running, further down the hallway in the opposite direction, crying all the way.

**Kurt and Finn perform their mash-up in the next chapter, which I will post on Wednesday. **

**Finally: reviews = love. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you once again for supporting this story! Please leave a review. I'd love to know what you think.**

**Also, I own nothing. **

**Enjoy!  
**

Two days later, Quinn was still reeling from shock. She was skipping Glee today, choosing instead to sit in the very back row of the very dark auditorium and stare off into space.

She had to make a decision, and soon. She had been so close to recognizing Puck as the true father – that is, until he started dating Rachel again. Puck was a dirty flirt; he always had been, and he always would be. She should have seen it coming, really; of course he would lead her on. Obviously, the fact that she was carrying his baby meant nothing to him. Jerk.

She leaned back in her chair and ran her hands through her hair. A cold truth came over her there, in the dark: it would be better for her child to have no father than to be raised by a guy like Noah Puckerman.

What could she do? Finn, bless him, seemed bent on being an active father to this baby. When she'd asked him about the possibility of giving the baby up for adoption, he nodded, hesitantly, but the light in his eyes seemed to die. She knew he would be a loving father – she just wasn't sure he would be a capable one. Then there was the slight inconvenience of the baby not actually being his. She couldn't keep lying to him about it.

The Schuesters were her only hope. Mrs. Schuester was a little strange, true, but Mr. Schue seemed like he would be the perfect father. All she needed to do was deliver her baby into the hands of their loving family, and everything would be all right again.

Suddenly, a few dim stagelights illuminated the stage. Finn stood in the center of the stage, jittering anxiously. He stepped up to a microphone and began strumming the guitar slung around his shoulders. Quinn, watched, spellbound, as he began to sing.

"_Never made it as a wise man_

_Couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing_

_Tired of living like a blind man_

_I'm lost inside without a sense of feeling_."

Another voice pitched in from the shadows, soaring effortlessly through a high harmony.

"_This is how you remind me of what I really am. _

_This is how you remind me of what I really am_."

Finn slammed down across his guitar strings, and the entire stage seemed to explode with light. Quinn held her hand to her face, squinting, and watched in awe as the two boys surged towards the chorus.

"_It's not like you to say sorry_

_I was waiting on a different story_

_This time I'm mistaken _

_For handing you a heart worth breaking_."

Kurt's hands pounded the keys with dead-on conviction. He leaned into the microphone, eyes closed, to deliver the high notes.

"_I've been wrong, I've been down_

_To the bottom of every bottle_

_But nothing compares to you_

_Nothing compares to you_."

Finn stepped back, easing up on his guitar playing.

"_Yeah, yeah_

_Nothing compares to you_."

Quinn was on the edge of her seat, her mouth open in amazement. This was four or five of the most amazing things she had ever seen. It was _fire_. Kurt stood up, kicking the piano bench back, and drummed away at the keys. Boy could really perform.

"_It's been seven hours and fifteen days_

_Since you took your love away_

_I could put my arms around every boy I see_

_But they'd only remind me of you_

_I went to the doctor and guess what he told me_."

Finn interjected, riffing on his guitar.

"_This is how you remind me of what I really am_."

Kurt gasped for air, pausing to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

"_Guess what he told me_

_He said that you better try to have fun  
No matter what you do  
But he's a fool  
`Cause nothing compares  
Nothing compares to you_."

Kurt slammed down on the keys once again, throwing his head back as he did. Finn ran back to the microphone.

"_It's not like you to say sorry_

_I was waiting on a different story_

_This time I'm mistaken_

_For handing you a heart worth breaking_

_And I've been wrong, I've been down_

_To the bottom of every bottle_

_But nothing compares to you_

_Yeah, yeah,_

_Nothing compares to you_."

Finn relented a little on his guitar, and Kurt ceased pounding the piano. Silence rang out in the auditorium for a few seconds, and then the two boys sang one last line.

"_Nothing compares_."

For a moment, everything was quiet. If she hadn't been, well, spying on them, Quinn would have leapt to her feet and cheered like an insane woman. She was forced to sit silent, practically bouncing with pent-up excitement, as Finn crossed the stage and slapped Kurt a mighty high-five.

"Yes!" Finn yelled, and pulled Kurt into a rough hug. Kurt's body went instantly limp, and a dreamy look fell across his face.

"Yeah, that was pretty good, wasn't it? Pretty good…"

"Dude, that was amazing! We could, like, record that!"

Finn spiraled back and punched the air.

"You really think it was that good?" Kurt grinned.

"Oh, man, we have to do that at Sectionals."

Kurt fluttered his eyelashes at the excited jock.

"Do you think…" he asked, softly, "that we could maybe sing it together at Sectionals?"

"If Mr. Schue thinks it's all right, then definitely!"

Kurt squealed a bit, jumping up and down. Finn, now considerably calmer, raised an eyebrow at the smaller boy. Kurt stopped, and cleared his throat.

"Thank you very much for singing with me, today, Finn Hudson. It's been a pleasure."

"Likewise." Finn threw his guitar into a black case. "Well, see you, bud."

Finn waved goodbye to Kurt, who stood center stage for a moment, and then walked over to the piano bench and set it upright. When he was sure Finn had left, he began playing a light melody that Quinn vaguely recognized – something from that French musical Rachel was obsessed with. Quinn stood up, brushed off her skirt, and descended the stairs to the stage. Kurt looked up, bewildered.

"Who's there?" he yelled.

Quinn entered the pool of light surrounding the stage. "Just me."

Kurt blinked, surprised, then smiled. "And what brings you here, Miss Fabray?"

She shrugged, and pulled herself up onto the stage. "I skipped rehearsal today. I've got a lot on my mind."

"Did you see us rehearsing?"

"Did I ever!" she smiled, sliding onto the bench beside Kurt. "You guys were so good."

Kurt smiled, and picked up the melody he'd been playing before. "You're just saying that."

"No, I swear! That was actually the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

"Thank you."

He continued playing the song. "_In the rain, the city shines like silver… all the lights are misty in the river_."

"Kurt?"

He didn't look up. "Yes?"

"Does Finn know that you like him?"

Kurt froze. The last note he'd played echoed through the auditorium.

"No."

Kurt crossed his arms on the piano, making a pillow for his head as he leaned forward and sighed. Quinn hesitated before lifting her hand and rubbing his back as lightly as she could.

"It's that obvious, huh?" he groaned.

"Well, to everyone but Finn."

His laugh was a sort of sad chuckle.

"I hope you know I'm not planning to steal him from you or anything. I've come to terms with the fact that he isn't capable of reciprocating my feelings for him."

Quinn's hand froze on his shoulder, and she gently patted him.

"I can't imagine what that feels like," she said.

"It sucks," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"Boys tend to suck. Just as a general rule."

He turned his head, smiling up at her. "But you've got the best boy anyone could ask for."

She smiled at his sincerity. "And he went and got me pregnant."

"Touché."

She removed her hand, leaning back a little. Kurt sat up, too.

"He's really not as perfect as you think he is, Kurt," Quinn said. "And I'm not being rude. It's just that ever since I got pregnant, he's been acting differently. We're not ready to be a family – I mean, we've only been going out for, like, half a year. And we're sixteen."

She groaned, rubbing her temples. "To be honest, I think he's got his eye on Rachel. And if I weren't pregnant, he'd probably have already dumped me for her."

"Isn't Rachel dating Puck, though?"

"To make Finn jealous," Quinn sighed. "And Finn really does like her more. It's so obvious."

"Oh," Kurt nodded slowly. "I never really cared much for Rachel, if that helps."

Quinn giggled quietly, but Kurt could tell she was near tears.

"C'mere," he said.

Kurt slid off the piano bench, tugging Quinn along by her wrist. Once they were both standing, Kurt threw his arms around her shoulders and drew her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him closer. His feathery angora sweater tickled her cheek, nearly triggering a sneeze. He rocked her gently back and forth, humming quietly as he did. With one last squeeze, he released her.

"Sisters?" he asked, in a whisper.

"_Siblings_," she corrected him.

He laughed, then brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

"You take care of yourself, Quinn."

"You too, Kurt."

He waved goodbye, collected his coat, and strolled through the stage door. Quinn leaned against the piano, taking a moment to redo her ponytail. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a tall guy standing in the wings.

"Finn? Is that you?"

"Hey, Quinn," he called. "I was just looking for my backpack. I think I left it back here."

Finn emerged onstage, holding a typically near-empty bookbag. "Found it!"

"That's good," she nodded.

"Yeah," he replied. "Why are you still here?"

"I didn't feel like going to rehearsal, so I just watched you guys rehearse instead. It's looking really good, Finn."

"Thanks." He looked a bit confused. "Were you talking to Kurt just now?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't know you two were friends." There was a trace of alarm in his voice.

"He's really sweet," Quinn said. "I got hit with a bunch of Slushies the other day and he helped me clean myself up."

"Cool. Well, see you tomorrow, babe."

He leaned forward, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She waved goodbye to him before he left through the left stage door.

When she was sure he had gone, she used the back of her hand to wipe away Finn's drool.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the support and reviews! I'm having so much fun with this story, and I hope you're all enjoying it too!  
**

**I own nothing.  
**

"How's your Slushie?"

Quinn sipped up a bit more through her straw. "I'd rather drink it than be hit in the face with it, that's for sure."

Kurt laughed, and spooned up a bit more of his Slushie. The two had finally capitalized on Bottomless Slushie Day - he'd opted for grape, and Quinn had picked cherry. They were seated, cross-legged, on the bathroom counter.

"We had a good day today, Quinnie," he remarked. "There's not a stain on you."

Quinn gestured to her pristine blouse. "And I have you to thank, of course."

Kurt looked down at his corduroy blazer and frowned at the enormous orange stain.

"I just patched up the elbows on this puppy, too," he shrugged. "Oh well, that's what I get for playing human shield."

Quinn slurped up the last of her Slushie and set down her cup. "Wait, you know how to sew?"

He grinned at her, incredulous. "I've been sewing my own clothes since I was eight years old."

"I may be in need of your services again, then. Not as a human shield, though."

"That's a relief."

Quinn sighed, and motioned to her bulging stomach. "I'm taking Home Ec. this semester. And of course we're sewing elastic-waist pajama pants. Just my luck."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"It would be," she groaned, "except I can't sew to save my life. I was stitching up the sides the other day, and I somehow managed to sew the legs together."

"Oh dear," he said, listening intently.

"Everybody else was done in the first 45 minutes and I haven't even finished mine yet. Well, because I was forced to start over. Because I sewed the legs together. And I need to buy more fabric, and I'm broke, and…"

Kurt's face lit up with delight. "I am so taking you shopping. There's a little Fabricland at the mall. And you could probably use some new maternity wear, too."

"Aww, Kurt, that's really nice of you." She snapped the waist of her pants. "You're right, these are getting tight. Ugh."

"I have to help my dad in the garage tonight." He paused to sip his Slushie. "When are you free?"

"Tomorrow after school should work."

He unfolded his legs and jumped off the counter. He held out his hand to Quinn to steady her as she climbed down.

"Sounds good. It's a date."

"Thanks for the Slushie, Kurt."

"No worries," he paused, a devious look in his eye. "Quinnie."

She giggled. "If you're going to insist on calling me that, then I at least get to call you Kurtie."

"No! No embarrassing nicknames!"

She shrugged her shoulders and pushed open the door. "Whatever. See you tomorrow, _Kurtie_."

She giggled, and disappeared into the stream of students leaving for the day. After a few moments, Kurt stepped out into the hallway. In the vast sea of noise, he heard a familiar high-pitched cackle. He looked left; sure enough, Rachel was busy verbally abusing Puck. He couldn't keep himself from ducking behind a locker to eavesdrop.

"I don't care how you feel! We're still partners for the project and we still have to do it well. If our mash-up doesn't make it into Sectionals, I will be the laughingstock of the entire show choir universe."

"I really don't care, you know," Puck scoffed. "I'm not about to sing a love song with you in front of a thousand people, or whatever."

"We'll do a different song, then," Rachel pleaded. "Look, I know it's awkward, but we have to do this. And we have to win Schuester's challenge. I was just in calc, and Brittany told me that Quinn told her that Finn and Kurt's mash-up is amazing."

"Brittany's taking calculus?" Puck laughed

"I know, I know; it's ridiculous. _Listen_. Apparently, Quinn somehow got to see them rehearse and she told Brittany it was the most incredible thing she'd ever seen."

"Quinn worships the Altar Boyz," Puck muttered. "Quinn has questionable taste in music."

"Just please rehearse with me."

"Do your own mash-up, Rachel. I don't want Quinn getting the wrong idea."

Rachel yanked Puck down by his shirt so he was eye-level with her. "Quinn is in love with Finn. They're having a baby together. When will you wake up and realize that she's not right for you?"

"You're ridiculous," he said, pushing her away. "When I tell you I love you, you don't believe me. And when I tell you it's over, you don't listen. What do you want from me?"

Rachel didn't answer him. She just turned away, slowly, and then shuffled down the hall, as if she were sleepwalking. On cue, Kurt stepped out from behind the locker, whistling quietly. He strode past Puck, who was packing up his books for the day, and then stopped.

"_Psst_. Puckerman."

He turned. "'Sup, homo?"

"Don't," Kurt sighed. "Just… don't."

Puck dropped his backpack, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What do you want?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "I couldn't help but overhear you and Rachel talking just now. I know it's not my business to intrude, but I really don't think you're being fair to her."

"Who? Rachel or Quinn?"

"Both, really. Now, let's discuss Rachel first."

Kurt leaned against the lockers. Puck looked shocked at his audacity. "It is abundantly clear to me that Rachel is desperate for a boyfriend – any boyfriend – and, moreover, she seems to like you. So, why not?"

"I don't like her," Puck growled. "She's a good kisser, sure, but she makes me want to light myself on fire."

"I'll admit it; I'm not the biggest Rachel Berry fan in the universe. But she did have a point."

"Really? 'Cause I didn't get anything from that little rant."

"It was about Quinn. She's having a baby, and with your best friend, to boot. Now is not the time to be pursuing a relationship with her. You need to leave her alone."

Puck raised an angry fist. Kurt held his hands in front of his face. "Don't kill me, please. Just think about it."

Kurt backed away slowly, and lowered his hands. Puck dropped his fist.

"Who do you think you are?" Puck glowered. "You don't know a thing about Quinn."

"There is one thing I know for sure," Kurt began again. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "She's too good for you."

Puck's arms flew up again, and he let out a long string of obscenities. Kurt bolted, giggling hysterically and nearly knocking over a freshman as he sprinted down the hall. Puck slammed his fist into a nearby locker, boiling with rage. He left a dent in the cold metal, and winced slightly. But none of that mattered.

Kurt Hummel was a dead man.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I wanted to get this update out before I headed out of town for the rest of the week. A lot goes on in this chapter, so it's a little longer than usual. The next update will be at the end of the week, as soon as I get back. Most likely Friday. **

**THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU loyal readers for all your reviews and notes. I love you all. Kurt/Quinn for the win. **

Kurt practically dragged himself into the auditorium after a particularly exhausting glee rehearsal. Finn followed him, practically falling asleep on his feet.

"Schuester is brutal these days," Finn moaned.

"Well, we've got to be our very best for Sectionals," Kurt reasoned.

"I know, I know. I'm just so tired. I haven't been sleeping very well lately, and all this baby drama is a lot to deal with. I'm going to have dinner with Mr. Schue tonight to talk about it. He's been really cool through this whole thing."

"That's good," Kurt nodded. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to skip rehearsal today. I'm taking Quinn to the mall."

"You're _what_?" Finn was suddenly wide awake.

"Oh, no, nothing like that, Finn," Kurt laughed. "She just needs some fabric for her Home Ec. project, and some new maternity wear. I figured I'd help her find something stylish."

"Oh," Finn said, understanding. "I guess shopping is your strong suit anyway."

Kurt laughed. "Gotta find those fierce baby clothes."

Finn grinned, slapping Kurt on the back. "For sure, man. And hey, thanks for being so good to Quinn. She was telling me how you helped her clean up after she got Slushied."

Kurt smiled back at him. "No problem. I'm happy to help."

He glanced down at his watch. "Well, I'd better be going. Quinn's waiting for me."

"Do you want to practice tomorrow before school? Mr. Schuester said the choir room's open if anyone needs to use it."

"Sounds good." Kurt wrapped a fuzzy red scarf around his neck and made for the exit. "See you then. And have fun with Mr. Schue tonight."

"Thanks, Kurt."

---

"Okay, tell me what you think."

Quinn stood before him holding two baby onesies. Kurt cocked his head to the side, surveying the jumpers while squinting.

"Hmm. I like the one with the little duck. Very fierce. But the one with Piglet? Hot mess, right there. Winnie the Pooh hasn't been fashionable in years."

"I thought so," Quinn smiled, and shelved the pink onesie. "Besides, ducklings are so cute."

Kurt nodded. "Ducks are the new teddy bears. Says so right here in _Parents_."

He showed her the magazine in his hands. Indeed, it appeared that ducklings were _de rigueur_ for baby fashion.

"Hey, Quinnie?"

"Yes, Kurtie?"

He winced. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

"What did you want?"

"I was just wondering," he asked, "if you wanted anything for yourself."

"Yes, please. I can't breathe in these jeans," she answered.

"I think there's a mommy's store in the west corridor. Come on, let's go."

Kurt stood up, swiping all of Quinn's selections up in his arms. He marched up to the counter and dropped everything in front of the cashier.

"I'd like to pay by debit, please."

Quinn's jaw dropped. "Kurt, that's very generous, but…"

He raised his hand to silence her. "Don't even start. Daddy pays me to help him in the garage. I am _rolling _in the Benjamins."

She didn't stop laughing as he paid for her items and gathered them up in a bag. He looped his arm through hers and led her through the mall to a maternity boutique.

"So, Quinn, random question: what, exactly, are you planning to do with the baby?"

"Well," she hummed, "I'm not exactly sure. It's kind of complicated. Right now it's looking like Mr. and Mrs. Schuester are going to adopt her."

"Really?" Kurt asked, somewhat surprised. "Isn't Mrs. Schuester pregnant?"

"Yeah," Quinn answered. "I'm not really sure how that's going to work. It's better than me trying to raise it on my own, though. I think Mr. Schuester would make a good father, don't you?"

They strolled up to the boutique, and Kurt stepped aside to hold open the door for her. Quinn's eyes were immediately drawn to a sunny baby-doll dress.

"Ooh," she squealed, and broke away from Kurt.

"You have more than enough dresses, honey. We came here to get pants that actually fit you."

"Can I at least try it on?" she pleaded.

"Oh, fine."

She clapped excitedly and pulled the dress off the rack. "I'm just going to go try this on."

"I'll look for, you know, stuff you actually need. Pants are a nutritious part of a balanced wardrobe."

Kurt turned away and started working his way through racks of elastic-waist pants. Shopping for Quinn had proven itself to be a unique challenge; he'd been in the women's section plenty of times before, but he'd never shopped for maternity wear. He nonchalantly flipped over one label.

"_Preggo Pants: A treat for you and your blooming body_!" he read under his breath. "Oh, dear. Quinn, what size do you wear?"

"No clue," she called from the changeroom. "I'm five months along, if that helps."

Kurt grabbed a few more pairs of pants from the shelves. How funny this was, he thought. Not two weeks ago, he had spent an entire Spanish class giving Quinn the evil eye. It wasn't until that day in the bathroom that he'd gotten a sense that she was more than just an evil cheerleader – well, a bitter ex-cheerleader, anyway. She was a human being, a very lonely one with a very big heart. And she made a very good friend. There was a part of him that wanted to spend forever with her, sipping Slushies in the girls' bathroom while adding to their litany of bizarre and occasionally inappropriate inside jokes. Maybe Carrie Bradshaw had been right all along – our friends are our soulmates, and boys are just people to have fun with.

Wait, what was he saying? Carrie Bradshaw was always right. Always. So, then Quinn was his technical soulmate. A smile played on his lips. He was surprised at how much he liked that thought.

He turned just in time to see Quinn slip out of the changeroom. She cradled her tummy in her arms, looking a bit nervous.

"How do I look?" she asked, biting her lip. She giggled a little. "Fierce?"

Yellow always looked nice on Quinn, but this dress made her glow. A large, butter-yellow sash flowed perfectly over her rounded stomach, and the skirt fell in waves to her calves. Kurt stared, open-mouthed, at her.

"You look… I mean… it's really…"

Quinn brushed back a stray strand of hair. "Maybe you're right. I really don't need another dress. And I'm going to be too big for it in, like, two weeks, anyway."

She turned back to the stall, but felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked back. Kurt lingered behind her, his blue eyes full of sincerity. Her own eyes fell to the slight curvature of her stomach, barely hidden by the dress's sash. A thousand emotions went galloping through her mind in a single second. Before she could stop herself, her vision had gone blurry with tears. Her sadness was coming out in pathetic little gasps. Kurt wrapped his arms around her shoulders, shushing her and stroking her hair. She closed her eyes, trying to remember how to breathe between sobs.

"You are _beautiful_," he murmured.

---

"Thanks for dinner, Mr. Schue."

"No problem, Finn. How do you like the pizza?"

"So good."

"I figured," Mr. Schuester laughed. "You've eaten two of them."

Finn went in for another piece.

"So, listen," Mr. Schuester began, "Did you want to talk about what's going on with Quinn?"

"Sure," Finn shrugged. "I'm handling it better these days, I think. The initial shock is all over. I just can't stop thinking about how unfair this all is. I mean, we never even had sex."

"I'm sorry?" Mr. Schuester looked confused.

"Yeah, I know. We were just sitting in her hot tub and then I, well, I-"

"You did what, Finn?"

"I sort of… jizzed." Finn looked embarrassed. "And the doctor said that the temperature in the hot tub was just right for the sperm to swim…"

He slammed the table in frustration. "We were wearing our swimsuits and everything! I just can't catch a break."

Mr. Schuester stared at Finn, open-mouthed in shock. "And that was the only incident? You two never had sex?"

"No! She was the president of the celibacy club before this all happened."

"Finn, I'm not quite sure how to say this, but I think she might be putting you on."

"What do you mean?"

"Finn," Will leaned across the table, "There is no way that Quinn could have gotten pregnant from sitting in the hot tub with you."

"I don't understand."

"Do you understand how babies are made?"

"Of course I do!" Finn cried, indignant. "I just helped make one!"

"Let me put it this way: everything a woman needs to make a baby is buried pretty deep inside of her. You just, um…"

"Jizzed," Finn interjected.

"Yes. In the hot tub. The sperm would have needed to get inside her somehow and… man, this is awkward."

"I see," Finn muttered. "But if she didn't get pregnant from the hot tub, then how did she get pregnant?"

"You're sure that you two never had sex?"

"Positive." Realization sank in across Finn's face. "You're not saying… somebody else is the father?"

"It's certainly looking that way right now. Do you have any idea who the father might be, Finn?"

Finn thought long and hard. Quinn's only male friends were the guys from the football team. And he couldn't see any of his friends on the football team betraying him like this. That is, except for one. He remembered last month, when the glee club had sung "Lean on Me" for him and Quinn. This guy had looked right in Quinn's direction, mimed a telephone, and whispered "call me." This guy, he realized, had been hanging around Quinn a lot lately. This guy had also gone out of his way to be really, really nice to him in the past couple of months. It was almost creepy; whenever he and Finn were together, this guy acted like he had a secret. And now, Finn realized, he realized what that secret was.

Finn nodded. "Oh, yes. I think I have a pretty good idea."

He rose from his seat. "Thanks for the pizza, Mr. Schuester."

"You're going?"

"I've gotta be at school early tomorrow," Finn replied. He marched towards the door and punched it open in his fury. "I'm meeting someone."

Kurt Hummel, that little _rat_, had knocked up his girlfriend.

Kurt Hummel was a dead man.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I know I promised an update on Friday, but I was out of town on a class trip and we didn't get back until very late last night. The upside was that WE WATCHED THE ENTIRE FIRST SEASON OF GLEE ON THE BUS ON THE WAY HOME. And my entire grade is now addicted to Glee. Everyone was singing along to the credit music by the end. The credit music. It was excellent. **

**Anyway, your update is finally here. I'd like to clarify that Finn is indeed an idiot, and he will continue to make bad decisions in this chapter. But don't worry, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. That is all I will say. The next update will be on Tuesday. **

**Thanks once again for the overwhelming support and reviews! **

**---**

Kurt adjusted his fedora, then opened the door to the choir room. He stopped in his tracks, blinking at the sight before him.

"Finn? What's going on?"

Finn stood on the balls of his feet, bouncing like a boxer ready to tear his opponent to shreds. His arms hung loose at his sides; he clenched and unclenched his fists. Behind him stood the entire football team. All of them looked thoroughly, thoroughly pissed.

"You're screwing my girlfriend!" Finn screamed.

Now, Kurt had expected something out of the ordinary was going on. But he sure as _hell_ hadn't been expecting that.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, you have some nerve, buddy," Finn continued, stalking ever closer to Kurt. "Trying to fool me into thinking that you cared about me. Moseying up to me just so you can take what's mine."

"I'm confused. Help me out here."

"Where were you last night?"

Kurt hesitated. "I was at the mall, Finn."

"Who were you with?"

"Quinn." Kurt's voice dropped to a whisper. "But Finn, I told you…"

The football players erupted in jeering. Finn shoved Kurt backwards; he stumbled, trying to catch his footing so he could run away. But Finn was relentless. He seized Kurt by his elbow.

"After our rehearsal last week, who did you talk to?"

"I talked to Quinn. But that doesn't mean…"

"I saw you kiss her."

"What are you talking about? I never kissed your girlfriend!" Kurt shrieked. He was genuinely frightened now. Finn had him pressed right up against the wall, and the entire football team was close by, ready to devour him.

"Yes, you did. On the hand."

"On the hand! That doesn't mean anything."

"It means something to me!" Finn screamed, grabbing Kurt roughly by his collar. "Puck found her jacket in your football bag! Tell me how that happened, and don't you dare lie to me!"

"Puck threw me in the dumpster and Quinn was nice enough to lend me her jacket so I wouldn't have to walk around all day covered in trash!"

Finn shoved Kurt back against the wall. "You were out at the mall with her for hours last night. I saw you kiss her. Puck says he saw the two of you coming out of the girl's bathroom together after fourth period on Monday. We found her freaking _clothing_ in your duffel bag."

"I didn't… I swear, I'm not…" Kurt was at a loss for words.

"Spit it out," Puck urged, stepping up to stand beside Finn.

"We're just friends, I promise you," Kurt finally gasped. He stared up into Finn's eyes, barely recognizing the boy he had once loved behind the blind rage that now clouded his face.

"Well, if I never had sex with her," Finn asked, "then who's the father?"

"I don't know! I never did _anything_ with Quinn, I swear!" Kurt yelled. Puck's rough hands grabbed him and tossed him to the floor. He struggled to pull himself up. Puck's boot collided with his chest, and he collapsed once again.

"Liar!" Finn screamed. He lunged forward. Kurt shielded his face with his hands, but Finn blew past him, his fists flying. Kurt's cries for him to _stop, stop, stop _fell on deaf ears.

---

As soon as Quinn arrived at McKinley, she knew something was terribly wrong. Hundreds of students were gathered in the parking lot, babbling and pointing at the police cars and ambulances that were parked in front of the school. Quinn pushed her way through the chaos to the front of the crowd. She pushed up beside Tina, who was leaning on the wheelchair of a stunned Artie.

"Tina, what's going on?"

"Th-th-this morning they found Kurt p-passed out in the d-d-d-dumpster."

"What?" she screamed, trying to be heard above the crowd.

"He was b-b-b-"

"Bleeding." Artie interjected, "Really heavily. He was black and blue all over. It was just awful."

Artie cradled his head in his hands. "They just took him to the hospital twenty minutes ago. They think his arm might be broken."

Whether it was morning sickness or general disgust, Quinn would never know. But for whatever reason, she fell to her knees and vomited all over the concrete.

"Quinn! Are you okay?"

Tina knelt over and lifted Quinn's hair out of her face. After a few minutes, Quinn was just dry-heaving and coughing.

"Where is Finn?" Quinn demanded, in a hoarse whisper.

"You should really go to the n-n-nurse's office, Quinn."

Quinn ignored her. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. Probably in g-g-g-gym class."

Quinn stood up, the world a dizzy blur. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. With single-minded fury, she turned on her heel and marched back through the crowd.

---

"Finn Hudson!"

He looked up from a pile of discarded athletic tape to see Quinn, who was shaking with rage. He quickly looked back down and continued taping Puck's ankle. It was part of some sort of first-aid exercise for gym class.

"What did Kurt ever do to you?"

Finn attempted to ignore her for a few more seconds, then grunted and threw down his tape. It bounced down the bleachers, and he watched it roll to a stop on the gym floor. Finally, he stood up, towering over Quinn.

"What did Kurt do to you, Quinn? Did he treat you better? Did he love you more? Was he good in bed?"

Where she had been furious before, she was now confused.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Look, I know that you slept with him. You can stop pretending now."

She laughed, stunned. "You honestly think I had sex with Kurt?"

"I saw you two making out after our rehearsal."

"He hugged me, Finn."

"He kissed you."

"My hand!"

Finn sighed. "I know that I'm not the father, Quinn. If it's not Kurt, then who else could it be?"

Quinn looked past Finn and locked eyes with a terrified-looking Puck. Lying had gotten her this far, she realized, and she was tempted to do it again. But how many people had she hurt so far, and how many would she hurt if she kept this up? Without a second thought, she thrust out her hand and pointed to Puck.

"It's Puck," she said, in a shaky voice, "Puck's the father."

She dropped her hand, looking once again at Finn. "I'm sorry, Finn. But right now, Kurt is the only innocent one."

"I don't believe you!" Finn yelled, even though he looked fully ready to punch Puck in the face.

Quinn sidestepped him and looked down at Puck, who was rapidly tearing tape off his ankle.

"Noah Puckerman," she hissed, "You helped him attack Kurt, didn't you?"

He nodded slowly.

"Because you didn't want him to find out the truth?"

"Yes. And also because I hate Kurt. He's a total douche."

Finn looked like he had been slapped across the face. Quinn crossed her arms over her chest and slowly walked away from both of the boys. Just as she reached the bottom of the bleachers, she turned around to face them.

"You disgust me. Both of you."

"It's over, Quinn!" Finn screamed. "I'm done with you."

"Good," she said. "That's exactly what I was going to say."

Finn sank to the bleachers and cradled his head in his hands. Still shaking with rage, Quinn turned to the gym doors.

"Quinn, wait!" Puck yelled, barreling down the bleachers. She waited for him, but only because she was fighting a splitting headache that made walking away a very unpleasant prospect. He placed his hand on her shoulder, and she jerked it off.

"Why do you even care so much? Kurt's never been anything but a little snot to us."

"You broke his arm, Puck. You broke his arm and you threw him in the dumpster. How can I not care?" she said, swallowing hard. "I care about Kurt because he's my friend. And right now, he's the only friend I've got."

"What are you saying? I have offered time and time again to help you, and to care for our baby..."

"_My _baby," she hissed. "And don't you _ever_ forget that."

Puck looked like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"Did you even consider telling Finn the truth before you helped him attack Kurt?" Quinn asked. "You let a completely innocent person take the fall for you."

"And you didn't?" Puck growled.

Shockwaves of nausea tore through Quinn. She threw a single hand over her mouth, choked back a sob, and ran for the door. How could she criticize Puck and Finn?

She was the guilty one.

Would her apology even matter to him?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: A shorter chapter today, but a big one in many ways. **

**Thanks once more for all the reviews. Your comments mean so much. **

**The entire story is finished now, so updates will be fairly frequent, but suffice it to say that reviews will help hurry things along. **

**And that's all I have to say about that. Love you all! Enjoy!**

---

The moment she reached the door to Kurt's hospital room, Quinn's knees turned to jelly. It was the strangest thing – she had been so intent on getting here, even going so far as to call a taxi to pick her up from school and take her to the hospital. She'd stormed past the receptionist in a furious rage – only to go back and sheepishly ask where, exactly, Kurt was – and she'd marched down his hallway with single-minded determination. Her entire journey had taken well over an hour, but now she was frozen, her hand glued the doorknob. She was so, so afraid of what she might find behind the door.

Quinn closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and brought her hand down on the doorknob. It clicked; she swung the door open and opened her eyes. She immediately wished she hadn't.

Kurt was perched in bed, like some kind of broken baby bird, a thin blue blanket covering his body. His right arm was encased in some sort of cast – in lady-fabulous hot pink, of course, which only served to make the sight of him more depressing. Worst of all was his face. Kurt's blue eyes stared up at her, unblinking behind a swollen mask of blotchy red, black, and purple skin. Quinn lingered in the doorframe, unsure of what to do.

"Quinn?" he finally croaked.

She tiptoed across the room to his bed and hovered on the edge. A few minutes went by. Neither said anything. Eventually, Quinn's arms wormed their way around Kurt's back, lifting him from the pillow into an awkward little hug. Kurt lifted his broken arm, wincing in pain as he did, and thumped Quinn on the back with his cast. She held him close, her ballooning belly swelling against his frail frame. It was time to say something, she realized, but she didn't know what to say.

"What happened?"

"I honestly don't know," Kurt moaned. "Last night after rehearsal, Finn and I agreed to meet at school early this morning to practice a bit. Somewhere between that conversation and this morning, Finn got it into his head that I was the father of your child."

"How… I don't even…" _Idiot._

"So this morning, I walked into the choir room and Finn was waiting there with the entire football team. And Finn started screaming at me, punched me a few times, and then Puck stomped on my arm, and I blacked out. I woke up in the dumpster."

"Oh my…" Quinn let Kurt fall back onto his pillows, and she sat on the edge of his bed, rocking back and forth.

"And as far as I know, Finn still thinks that I'm the father. So you've got a lot of explaining to do." Kurt finished, and let out a half-hearted laugh.

"Puck," Quinn said, simply. "Daddy hired Puck to clean our pool in August. I invited him in for orange juice, and before I knew it, he'd gotten me horribly drunk and…"

The look on his face told her to spare him the details.

"When were you planning on telling anybody?"

"I just told everyone, Kurt. I couldn't live with myself after what happened to you. I told Finn who the real father was. Everyone knows the truth now, and I don't care. I'm ready to suffer for it."

"I'm pretty sure I already did that for you."

Kurt leaned back against his pillows, staring outside the window. Quinn followed his gaze to a little bird perched on a branch on one of the bare trees.

"You know, I really liked you, Quinn," Kurt said, his voice quivering as he fought back tears. "I really, really liked you. I've never liked a girl as much as I liked you. And I am kicking myself-" he gritted his teeth, anguish in his tone "-for ever thinking that we had something even remotely genuine."

She'd been stroking his hand before; she froze. "What are you saying, Kurt?"

He turned back, staring her dead in the eye. "I was just part of your plan all along, wasn't I? You were just using me to keep up your lie."

"What?!" she cried. "No!"

He rolled his eyes, blinking back tears as he stared at the ceiling. "I want to believe you, Quinn. I really do. But I just can't shake this feeling I have - that everything – man, everything, all of it - it was all just a lie."

"It wasn't a lie!" she sobbed. "What are you talking about? I needed you."

"You didn't need _me_," he hissed, "You needed a willing victim to take the fall for you. And it's done. You got what you wanted. Whatever we had is over now. You're welcome."

Quinn jerked forward and grabbed the collar of his hospital gown. He looked stunned, his eyes darting everywhere but at her face, glancing around the room like nervous butterflies.

"Look at me, Kurt Hummel!" she screamed.

He did. Their eyes met, and Quinn took a moment to calm herself before she began again, in a whisper.

"There was never any plan, I promise you."

She brought her hands down to her sides, letting one hand interlock with his fingers. The other traced patterns on the sheets.

"I have hurt you, and I am sorry. I fully understand if you never want to speak to me again. But please, please, just listen to me. I need you to listen to me right now."

She paused, gasping for air between her heavy sobs. Their faces were inches away; she could feel him doing the same.

"You have been a loyal friend to me even though I am a horrible, horrible person and I didn't deserve it. I've been horrible to you. I didn't deserve you, but I needed you. And I know I don't deserve you now, but I need you more than ever."

Her voice was little more than a hoarse murmur now. She struggled to start her final sentence.

"So if you're going to walk out of my life just like everybody else has…" she choked, "I just want you to know that _I will miss you_."

Violent sobs racked her body with hysterical grief. The room around her became an antiseptic blur of white and green as cold tears flooded her cheeks. After a few minutes, Kurt raised his good hand to her face and thumbed away the wetness pooling under her eyes. Quinn looked at him, stunned. He wiped his fingers on the thin blanket, leaving a set of damp stains, and stared solemnly at her.

Before she knew what she was doing, Quinn leaned across the bed and gently kissed Kurt's swollen lips. Kurt's eyes flew open; his entire body seemed to twitch. After a few seconds, Quinn pulled away and leaned against his forehead. Her wet eyelashes brushed against his temples. Kurt closed his own eyes, but not in time to prevent the escape of a single tear. He brought his fingers to his lips, breathing in deeply.

"I think you should go now," he whimpered.

Quinn nodded, then stood up and walked out of the room without saying goodbye.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you all once again for supporting this story! Reviews are love! **

From that point on, Mondays got a whole lot worse.

A particular highlight was the Monday when the football team met her on her way to last-period calculus. "Met" wasn't the right word; it was a frontal twelve-Slushie assault that left corn syrup congealing in her hair and ice melting through to her underwear. They'd all high-fived each other, barreling down the hall and laughing while Quinn stood alone, clutching her ruined books and hiccupping between sobs.

The boys skidded to a stop at the end of the hall. The running-back raised his hands above his head.

"Yo, guys," he hollered, "Anybody else here slept with her?"

They all laughed. Sticky rainbow rivers of Slushie rolled off her blue dress, pooling on the floor beneath her. She closed her eyes, willing the football players to vanish and to take her shame with them.

"You hear me, whore? You slept with anyone else on this fine football team?"

There was a part of her that wanted to veer into the bathroom then and there, but she knew that it was hopeless.

All the Tide-to-Go in the world couldn't mend a broken heart.

---

Then there was the Monday when Mr. Schuester had found her in the halls, tapped her on the shoulder, asked her quietly if she would mind stepping into his classroom for a moment. He'd clearly been crying, and he nearly started bawling again as he explained to her that he was leaving his wife, and that he'd been completely unaware of any adoption plans.

He said he was sorry.

He shoved a box of Kleenex across the desk, watched as her face turn red and crumple under stress and tears, watched her sob into the thin tissue.

He said that he hoped it would work out for her, and that she probably still had time to find another adoptive parent. She'd realized that night, lying awake on the couch in Brittany's basement, that she really was all alone in the world.

The father of her baby had been uniformly expelled from McKinley following the attack. She'd heard it through the grapevine that he was living in Canada, working as a car mechanic, or a drug pusher, or maybe even some combination of both.

She rested a hand over her rounded stomach, whispering to her baby that it would eventually be all right. She wanted it to be true.

---

She didn't see Kurt until again until a Tuesday in February. He'd been away for about a month and a half, taking some time to recuperate. Quinn had tried to convince herself that things were easier without him around – that his absence only postponed and nullified the emotional avalanche that would occur when she did see him again.

But in February, he came back to school. She'd been gathering up her sewing supplies for Home Ec. and clumsily dropped her sewing kit. The bag's contents rolled all over the crowded hallway, and she was down on her knees looking for her missing thimble when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned her head, only to see her missing thimble rolling back and forth between the fingers of an unmistakably well-manicured hand.

---

Maybe it was a peace offering, the silver thimble he held in his hand. That's what he wanted it to be, anyway.

She took it from him, dropped it in her bag, and stood up slowly, clutching her stomach as she did. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and a grey cotton t-shirt was stretched over her baby bump.

This was not the Quinn Fabray he knew. The Quinn Fabray he knew wore dresses in bright colours, sat in the front row for physics and chemistry and calculus. This Quinn Fabray, the one in front of him, looked every inch the teenage mother – tired and worn-out, with dark circles under her eyes.

He couldn't bring himself to smile. "Hi."

She brought her eyes up, meeting his gaze. She opened her mouth, probably to say hello, but she gasped instead, and buckled over.

"Quinn, what's wrong? Did I…"

"No, it's nothing. It's not you," Quinn answered, sucking in a breath through her gritted teeth. "Feel."

Quinn grabbed his hands and tugged him forward. He stumbled forward a bit. All his confusion cleared away when she placed his hands on her rounded abdomen, when he felt the first faint tremor, the soft "thud" of the baby's kick. His eyes lit up with glee; his mouth formed a surprised "o."

"Is that her kicking?" Kurt whispered. He smiled. "Wow. That's… that's wonderful."

"She's kicking, all right," Quinn said. He could feel the baby moving underneath her skin, peppering the surface with her soft little kicks. He gasped, astonished. His hands slid off her stomach and he threw out his arms to the side, opening himself up for a hug.

"Bye, Kurt." She sidestepped him, striding down the hallway as fast as she could. He just looked down at the floor, at the place where she'd been standing a moment ago. He brought his hands down to his sides, sliding them into the pockets of his jeans, rocking back and forth on his heels. He looked up and saw her, her sad eyes peering at him as she lingered at the end of the hallway.

"I miss you," he said, quietly, praying she could hear him over the crowd. "I miss Mondays with you."

---

She saw him mouth the words, "I miss you."

She missed him, too. She missed him, she missed him, she missed him.

For a moment, she swore she could feel butterflies in her stomach, but then she realized that it was just the baby kicking away.

Again.

Quinn looked down, pressed her sewing kit against her chest, and walked away.

---

A few weeks had gone by when Quinn woke up on a Monday morning, around 1 o'clock. She hadn't been sleeping well for the past few weeks, and she'd gone to sleep on a vicious backache. She cast off her blanket, damp with sweat and heaven-knows-what else, and sat up on Brittany's couch, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. After going to the kitchen for a quick glass of water, she returned to the couch and sat, staring at the walls, for what seemed like hours but was really only a few minutes. She noticed a guitar propped up against the TV stand, and she brought it back to her nest on the couch.

Taking care not to wake Brittany or her parents, she quietly strummed the strings. Puck and Finn had taught her a little bit, and she could play a few chords. Maybe she could play herself a lullaby, get some extra sleep. And she needed something to get her mind off her awful intermittent cramps.

"_I'm alone in this life, and these old jeans are too tight_…" she sang, and then laughed a little. How fitting.

"_I try to laugh, but I cry_

_My dignity's undignified_

_Guess I'm really on my own_."

Her mind wandered through the events of the past few months. Ever since she'd dropped Glee, she had felt so much more alone. Brittany had been kind enough to provide her with a home, but at school, she didn't even talk to Quinn. And things had gotten even harder when Kurt came back. There were so many things she wanted to share with him, so many things she needed to say, but whenever she was around him she clamped up. They hadn't even spoken since the day she'd dropped her sewing kit. Quinn tried to ignore him, to forget about him, honestly. What confused her most was that Kurt didn't want to ignore her – he seemed to be waiting around every corner with a longing look in his eye. And every time she saw him, the baby practically started tap-dancing.

No fair, baby. No fair.

"_Is it too late to call you on the phone?_

_Too late to tell you I'm alone?_

_I want to wake you from another lonely night_

_Too late to wonder where you are,_

_Too late to hold you in my arms?_

'_Cause if you're looking for wonderful_

_I'm wonderful_."

Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain shot through her entire body. She dropped the guitar and leaned back, gasping for breath. In a panic, she realized that this wasn't backache at all. She struggled to stand despite the pain, and then shuffled, hunchbacked, over to the stairs.

"Brittany!" she screamed. There was no response. Grimacing, Quinn started to take the stairs, slowly, one at a time. She finally reached the top, panting for breath, and made her way down the hallway to where Brittany's parents were sleeping. Another contraction tore through her body, and she crumpled to the floor. She leaned against the door, trying to jimmy open the doorknob. It was locked. She banged on the door as hard as she could, screaming at them to open up. Nothing happened.

She stepped back after a few more attempts. The world around her was a dizzy blur as the contractions blew through her, hard and fast. She hurled herself at Brittany's door, and tried to open it, but to no avail. Everyone in the house was fast asleep behind a locked door.

Quinn dropped down on all fours and crawled back to the stairs. She edged her way down, her belly brushing against each stair. When she reached the bottom, she crawled back to the couch, pulled her cellphone out of her backpack, and dialed 911. She fell back on the floor and stayed there, lying down, to complete the call.

"Police, fire, or ambulance?" the voice asked.

"Ambulance," Quinn groaned, through gritted teeth. Another contraction tore through her, and she shrieked loudly.

"What's the emergency?" the voice asked again. He sounded genuinely concerned this time.

"I'm having a baby. I mean, I'm in labour," she said, between gasps. "And my parents kicked me out so I'm at my friend's house but everyone here is asleep and I can't wake them up…"

"We'll send an ambulance immediately," the man reassured her. "Which address are you staying at?"

A nauseous wave surged through her, and she struggled to spell out the street name. She was shaking all over, in a cold sweat, by the time she hung up the phone.

---

"Quinn Fabray?" the nurse called.

Quinn lifted her head off the pillows that propped her up. "Yes?"

"We just called your parents, and it doesn't look like they're going to come. Would you like us to call the baby's father?"

"No."

"Oh." The nurse looked worried. "Do you have any friends we could call?"

She thought for a moment, and then her eyes filled with tears. Giving birth alone was never part of the plan. "No."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the nurse said, patting Quinn's hand reassuringly. "I have to check you again, honey. Those contractions are coming hard and fast."

"I don't want you to," Quinn whimpered.

"You were seven centimeters dilated last time," the nurse said. "I just need to check to see where you are now."

"This baby isn't even due for three weeks!"

"Your baby is coming right now, Quinn. She's ready to be born. Let's just check..."

"I'm not ready!" Quinn shrieked hysterically. She clamped her legs shut. "I'm not ready! I can't do this! Mommy isn't here. Where's Mommy? I need my mom! I can't do it without her."

"She isn't coming, sweetheart," said the nurse, stroking Quinn's arm. "We need you to be brave and do this by yourself."

"Go away!" Quinn screamed, slapping away the nurse's prying arms. "I'm sixteen! I can't have a baby! I can't be a mother! I can't do this all by myself!"

"Honey, I need you to see where you are. You need to calm down."

"Stop touching me!" Quinn twisted out of the nurse's grip.

"For the last time, I need to see where you are."

"She's right there," called a voice. Quinn's eyes flashed to the door. Her heart stopped beating.

Kurt Hummel stood in the doorway, panting a little, and wearing a fluffy bathrobe over what appeared to be footsie pajamas. And bunny slippers.

"Kurt?" she asked, disbelieving. This had to be a dream, she thought to herself. There was no way that was really him, crossing the floor in bunny slippers that padded softly on the linoleum, kneeling down beside her bed, reaching out for her hand. He laced his fingers between hers, and she thanked God when she felt his soft skin on her hand and realized that she was wide awake after all.

"You're here," she mumbled. "You're wearing bunny slippers."

"Brittany called me a few minutes ago. I drove over here as soon as I could," he laughed conspiratorially. "She told me that she heard sirens and saw flashing lights outside her house. And when she went downstairs to check on you, and she noticed that you were gone and the couch you'd been sleeping on was soaking wet."

He grinned deviously. "She suspected aliens."

She giggled despite herself, and Kurt squeezed her hand again. "How are you doing?"

Quinn shook her head. "I'm really scared."

"You can do this. I know you can. You're so strong, Quinnie."

"It hurts so much," she whispered. "I can't do it."

"We'll do it together, then." Kurt pulled up a chair, sat down, and gripped Quinn's hands in his.

"I'm sorry; who are you?" the nurse asked Kurt.

"He's my friend," Quinn answered. Another contraction wracked her body, and she gasped. Kurt winced; without thinking, she'd squished his hands.

"Sorry," she panted.

"No, don't be sorry. Come on, hold my hands, Quinnie. Squeeze them as hard as it hurts."

"May I check now, Quinn?" the nurse asked.

Quinn nodded. The nurse helped her prop up her legs, and then attended to her nurse-ly business between Quinn's legs.

"Quinn, you are ten centimeters dilated. We're ready to go."

Contractions came, hard and fast. Quinn pushed and pushed, gasping for air each time. She tried not to focus on how much it hurt, on the harsh lights, the blood pooling on the bed underneath her, or the nurse shouting encouragements from the foot of the bed. By degrees, Quinn tuned out the entire universe until all she knew was Kurt, standing by her side and holding her hand and cheering her embarrassing nickname until his voice was hoarse.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is it. The final chapter in the Mondays with You saga. Before I begin, I need to thank some very important people. First of all, I'd like to thank my lovely BEE, the other half of the bethandbee equation, who beta-read this and provided sage advice. Bee, you are the bear to my pterodactyl, and this fic is the first and greatest bearodactyl. Hopefully, there will be many more.**

**Another big thank you to the lovely people over at gleeclub, and to all the wonderful people who have read and reviewed this story. I honestly love hearing from you in your reviews and comments. I've been getting so many lovely e-mails (fun fact: every time I get a Mondays with You related email, Google asks me if I want to schedule the event "with You" as a weekly occasion on Mondays. I lol'd.)**

**So, six words: THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU. ENJOY.**

"It's a girl!"

Quinn cast her eyes to the ceiling, breathing deeply. The nurse raised up Quinn's daughter, radiant in all her slimy, purple glory.

"Look, Quinn! You did it!" Kurt was ecstatic, his eyes wet with happy tears. "That's your baby!"

Quinn took her daughter from the nurse and cradled it against her chest. She was sobbing now, for a million reasons; pain, first and foremost, but also relief and joy and fatigue and sadness. There were no words to express what she was feeling. All she could do was hold this tiny little person close to her and feel through her tears.

Kurt lifted Quinn from her pillows, and wiped a stray blonde curl off of her sweaty face. His hands were marbled white and blue from Quinn's punishing grip on them during labour. He smiled down at Quinn, at her daughter, and then leaned forward and kissed Quinn's forehead.

"You are my hero, Quinnie."

"No," she murmured. She smiled weakly at him through her veil of tears and sweat. "You're my hero."

He wrapped his arms around her and her baby. Quinn rested her head on his shoulder and wept into the soft material of his bathrobe.

* * *

"You mind telling me where you've been all night?"

Kurt squirmed under his dad's grip. There really was nothing worse than a frantic and worried parent – until they found you.

"I was at the hospital, Dad. Quinn just had her baby."

His dad swallowed hard, releasing his grip on Kurt's shoulder to thump him on the back.

"How's she doing?"

Kurt nodded slowly. "She's all right. I just… I came home to change and grab some coffee. I'll probably head back to the hospital later."

"Is anyone with her now?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, it was just me. She was asleep when I left. I think her parents are coming in to visit her later."

"It's disgraceful, you know? Throwing her out like she's some kind of…"

"I know," Kurt nodded. "It's… it's awful."

Burt sat down on the edge of his desk, taking a long, slow drink from his coffee mug. Kurt crossed his arms, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"And that Puck kid… running off like a coward."

Kurt nodded. "It's pretty complicated."

"Bull."

Burt set his coffee down on the desk behind him, leaned forward, and started rubbing his forehead in slow circles. It was really dreadful, this – when he knew why his dad was upset and he couldn't do a thing to bridge the divide. Burt had never been one to verbalize his feelings.

"I'd give you a ride, you know, but hospitals…"

"I know."

Kurt crossed the floor slowly, getting ready to sit down beside his father. Burt snapped up suddenly, pointing a finger at Kurt.

"Kurt, I need you to promise me one thing."

Kurt nodded.

"She needs you. Don't you ever leave her."

"Don't worry, dad." The corners of his mouth turned up into a soft smile. "I won't. I never will."

* * *

She was asleep when the nurse led her parents in an hour later.

"I'm sure you'll be happy to know that Quinn had a relatively quick labour," the nurse prattled. "She was quite apprehensive at first, but she calmed down when the baby's father showed up. After that, things went pretty smoothly."

"The baby's father?" asked Mrs. Fabray. "Finn?"

"No, I believe his name was Kurt. Curtis, maybe. Something like that."

"Oh," Mrs. Fabray hummed, clearly confused.

"It's a different boy every week," smirked Mr. Fabray.

Kurt strolled in brandishing a Starbucks tray. "Morning! I was just out on a coffee run."

He rested the tray on a counter, and then extended his hand to the Fabrays. "My name's Kurt. I'm a friend of Quinn's."

Mr. Fabray refused to shake Kurt's hand. "Russell."

Kurt, unfazed, turned to Mrs. Fabray. "And you are…?"

"Judy," she grinned, artificially, and shook his hand.

"Now, I'm a little confused here: are you the bastard who knocked my daughter up?" Mr. Fabray was suddenly aggressive.

"Oh, no, sir. Definitely not," Kurt laughed uneasily. "I'm just a good friend. Now, I was wondering if I could talk to the two of you for just a moment. It's about Quinn and the baby."

"We actually came here to see Quinn, if you don't mind," Mrs. Fabray said, hostility clear in her voice.

"It'll only take a minute," Kurt said, "And it's very important."

Mr. Fabray shrugged. "Fine."

Kurt stepped back, holding open the door. "We just need to walk over the chapel."

He led the way through the hospital, dodging gurneys and apparatuses of all kinds. Finally, they reached the chapel. Kurt held open the door and made his way inside after the Fabrays. He reached into the back of one pew and pulled out a Bible.

"What is this all about, buddy?" Mr. Fabray asked.

"One second. I'm finding the verse."

He thumbed through the pages. His dad was much better with this stuff than he was – Kurt didn't exactly read the Bible for fun. When he found it, he triumphantly stabbed the page with his finger.

"Luke 15, verses 13 to 24."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Mr. Fabray mumbled.

Kurt ignored him, and began to read: "It wasn't long before the younger son packed his bags and left for a distant country. There, he wasted everything he had. After he had gone through all his money, there was a bad famine all through that country and he began to ache… That brought him to his senses. He said, 'I'm going back to my father. I'll say to him, Father, I've sinned against God, I've sinned before you; I don't deserve to be called your son ever again.'"

He paused for a moment. Mrs. Fabray coughed into her hand, shifting nervously.

"When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. The son started his speech, but the father wasn't listening. He was calling to his servants, '…my son is here! Given up for dead, and now alive! Given up for lost, and now found!'"

Kurt closed the Bible, scanning the Fabrays' faces for a reaction. Mr. Fabray slowly uncrossed his arms, letting them rest in his pockets instead.

"What is this about?"

Kurt lay down the book, and crossed his arms angrily. "Quinn was sleeping on a couch in her friend's basement when her water broke. She went through six hours of labour all by herself."

"You are way out of line, kid," Mr. Fabray seethed. He charged forward.

"Russell, don't," Mrs. Fabray cautioned him.

"Oh, I'm out of line?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow. "I drove to this hospital at three o'clock in the morning to help Quinn deliver her baby, and I'm out of line?"

He took their silence as license to continue.

"Mr. and Mrs. Fabray, I can't imagine this situation was a dream come true for the two of you, but you have a responsibility to protect your daughter."

"I'm sorry - Kurt, is it?" Mrs. Fabray interrupted.

Kurt nodded.

"Kurt, we raised Quinn to have standards, to know when to say 'no.' Her… her _decision_ was hugely disrespectful, and it went in direct violation of everything we'd ever taught her."

"You raised Quinn by this book," Kurt interrupted, pointing at the forgotten Bible. "Where in this book does it say that you're allowed to stop loving your daughter?"

The Fabrays stood, speechless. Kurt sucked in a deep breath.

"Do the right thing."

He strode out of the chapel, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

"Quinn? Quinn, wake up."

The gentle hand on her shoulder awoke her, and she opened her eyes. The room around her was a blur, but as she blinked dark water out of her eyes, two faces came into focus. Her mother loomed over her, one hand on her shoulder.

"Hi, Quinn. How are you?"

"Fine," she mumbled.

Mr. Fabray crouched behind her, stroking Quinn's hand gently. An awkward silence was heavy over the entire scene. Her mom was mumbling under her breath, barely a whisper. Suddenly, her voice hitched and she threw her arms around Quinn.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Quinn, I'm so sorry."

Tentatively, Quinn raised her arms and hugged her.

"…mom? What's going on?"

"I love you, Quinn."

"I love you too, mom."

* * *

Kurt stood on the outside of Quinn's hospital room, peering in through the door's small window. The curtains around her bed had been pulled back, so he could see clearly. And he liked what he saw. Mrs. Fabray was hugging a crying Quinn, patting her on the back, and Mr. Fabray stood, overlooking the scene. Kurt thought he saw him mouth the words, "I'm sorry." A few feet away, the newest and littlest Fabray dozed, safe and sound, in an incubator.

After a few minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Fabray made their way over to the door and stepped into the hallway. Mrs. Fabray smiled softly at him. Mr. Fabray nodded at Kurt, then clapped him on the back.

"She's asking for you now," Mrs. Fabray said.

"Quinn?" Kurt asked.

Mrs. Fabray nodded. "Thank you for helping her this morning, Kurt."

Rubbing his hands together, Kurt stepped back inside, and then slowly shut the door. Quinn was awake now, but still groggy. She was propped up in bed by about half a dozen enormous pillows.

"Kurt," she smiled. "You really are my hero."

"You pretty much amputated my fingers there," Kurt laughed. "I can't even begin to imagine how much that hurt. Pooping out a human being – that takes talent."

"I did not _poop out_ a human being. It's called giving birth," she giggled. She threw open her arms for a hug. "Get over here."

He perched on the edge of her hospital bed, all too eager to return her hug. He'd gone home in the time she'd been asleep, and he was now dressed in real clothes and smelled faintly of aftershave.

"Kurt, what on earth did you tell my parents?"

"I just called them on their blatant hypocrisy, that's all," Kurt shrugged. "Fortunately, it worked."

"I have a home again. My _baby_ has a home. Mom even said she's going to convert my sister's old bedroom into a nursery. They're going to help me raise my daughter. You have no idea how much that means to me. It's everything I've been praying for. I could never begin to repay you..."

"You don't owe me anything," he reassured her. "I'm just glad we're back to being friends."

"Me too," she smiled. She wiggled out of the hug and fell back against the pillows. "Um, Kurt? I have something I really need to ask you."

"Sure."

"Well, um. I haven't heard from Puck yet, and I… I don't really want to. Not at this point."

Kurt nodded.

"I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to be the baby's godfather?"

His eyes widened. "Oh, Quinn, I… wow…"

"You were everything I needed. Everything and more. You've played a special role in her life already, and if you would share your life with her a little…"

"I'd love to."

"Yes?"

"Absolutely."

He grinned at her, then stood up from his place on her cot. He made his way over to the incubator, looking down at Quinn's daughter. His goddaughter.

"You can hold her if you want."

Hesitantly, he lifted the baby from her mattress, taking care to support her head. He cradled her against his chest, holding her close as he walked back to Quinn's bedside. She was so warm, so small. He watched, spellbound, as she breathed in and out. He barely noticed the tears welling up in his eyes. Quinn laid a hand on his knee.

"Well?"

"She's beautiful," Kurt whispered.

* * *

Susannah Grace Fabray was rarely quiet from that point on. At her baptism, she wouldn't stop yelling, babbling and cooing as the priest sprinkled her with holy water.

"Calm _down_, Susie," Quinn had counseled her, juggling the baby in her arms.

Kurt had been standing beside her, dressed in a relatively modest blue button-down shirt and tan slacks. She'd carefully screened his outfit the night before to ensure he wouldn't arrive at the church in harem pants and a fedora. Hummel fashion was very unpredictable.

She passed Susie to Kurt, who, in the process, dotted Kurt's lapel with wet handprints.

"Susie is paying for drycleaning," he hissed.

Quinn elbowed him, and the two smiled broadly as the entire congregation applauded little Susie. The booming organ resounded throughout the chapel, and everyone began to sing.

_What heights of love, what depths of peace_

_When fears are stilled, when strivings cease _

It wasn't that everything was right again. Not by a long shot. But, she thought to herself, this moment was exactly right.


End file.
